Walking Through Fire
by aikobabe7
Summary: Mark meets a girl. A girl who changes everything.  The girl who can finally save him from the mess his life has become. Set before, during, and after RENT.
1. One Last Cigarette

_Authors Note: This story is my first fanfiction. It's going to start before RENT and continue through and after the story. I'm not quite sure if my original character will be major or not yet, but either way there will be a lot of focus on Mark/Roger. Also the POV will switch from Mark to Roger every couple of chapters. I don't own RENT. Please read and review._

_Mark's POV  
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I don't really smoke anymore. It's not because I don't want to, it's sort of the opposite. I love smoking a cigarette on the fire escape of the loft after a long day of filming. I picked up the habit in high school as a way to tame my usually spastic self. It was getting my first camera that really made me slow down. I didn't need a cigarette to occupy my hands or calm my nerves when I could simply wind up the camera and become the observer. I stopped smoking altogether when I moved to the city. When you barely have enough money to make the rent, cigarettes are no longer high on your list of priorities. When I can afford cigarettes now, I save them for special occasions, when I really need something to take the edge off. Right now I need it. I need the calming of the nicotine to drown out the screams coming from the loft as Roger and April have yet another fight. I carefully slip out the window and onto the fire escape, closing it behind me to muffle the sounds of anger radiating out of Roger's room.

Nights like this are becoming way too common. I know it's the drugs. It was never like this before April started using. On top of that Collins, the peacemaker of the loft, is out of town again doing… whatever Collins does with his free time. Probably in some four star hotel in Brazil kicking up his heels while I deal with the mess here. _I would give anything to get out of here too._ It all gives me a raging headache. Fortunately I have one last cigarette saved for a night like this. And one last match to accompany it. I pull it out of the box and go to light it. I fumble. I watch the match slip out of my hands and fall, almost in slow motion, all the way into the on the street below. _Fuck._ I close my eyes and let my head rest on the rail of the fire escape, fixating on the wasted match in the gutter. I close my eyes and try to will away the pounding in my head, the cold of the city around me, the utter mess that my life has become. _Why me?_ Something clatters on the floor of the fire escape, interrupting my stupor of self-pity. I slowly lift my head and begin to inspect the floor for whatever is being thrown at me. It's sitting a few inches from my feet, small and square. A book of matches. I've never been religious, but in that moment I think there must be a god. I quickly look down for the wonderful person who has taken pity on the poor guy who looks like he's about to throw himself off the building. I find her on the fire escape below me. _Wow._

It would sound way too clichéd to say that the girl perched on the railing below mine is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but this is the thought which slams through my head when I see her. She is young, too young, she can't possibly be over nineteen. She is too thin, too pale, shaking too much in her thin clothing, but so pretty. She's sitting on the rail of the escape, so small I can only think that a gust of wind could pull her over the edge. Pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight and dark brown hair falling over her delicate face. I stare. _Wow._ She's smoking a cigarette. _Isn't she a little young for that? _I watch as she takes one last drag and ditches it over the railing. Sliding off, she flicks her eyes up at me and meets my gaze. I can't move. I can't think. _Those blue, blue eyes._ When I finally force myself to look away she smiles at me. A beautiful, knowing smile, almost mocking me. I watch as she disappears back into her own apartment . I still can't move.


	2. Her Eyes

_Mark's POV_

I stand there, maybe hours. Maybe even days or weeks. _Why did I come outside again? Cigarette, huh_? All I know is that when I finally pull myself together and stumble back into the loft the fight is over and April is gone. I don't know where she goes. _Probably to the man. Probably to another boyfriend she uses just like she's using Roger. _Roger isn't angry anymore. I'm glad; he's scary when he's angry. He's sitting on the dilapidated couch plucking out a tune on his ancient Fender. I dazedly make my way over to the couch and plop down beside him, listening to the out of tune melody he's trying to make into a song.

"Do you know the girl who lives downstairs?" Roger looks up, surprised at the random question.

"Nope. I think she's only been around for a few months though because I remember the last lady who lived there got evicted for keeping like 200 cats in that tiny apartment. I didn't know someone else had moved in"

I nod silently. I remember the day that the ASPCA trekked all the way out to Alphabet City to arrest the crazy cat lady downstairs. That was probably a month or two ago though, I don't understand why I've never seen mystery match girl before. If I had seen her on the stairs or in the halls I definitely would have noticed. _How could I not see her?_ My head is still pounding, worse than ever, but I'm tired. I know that I've gotten everything I'll get out of Roger. I try to sleep. I toss and turn for at least an hour before I finally find sleep. My last thought as I drift off is of her. Her eyes.


	3. Mystery Match Girl

_Mark's POV_

It's been two weeks since I saw her. Mystery match girl. I haven't seen her, or anyone, go in or out of the apartment downstairs. After the first week watching, waiting for her I tried to stop. Now it's been two weeks and I finally have something to truly distract me. Spring has come. I wake up to the first of the year's warm spring days. I get out of bed and don't recoil with cold. I have looked forward to this momentous day all winter. I grab a quick bowl of Cap n' Crunch and my camera. I rush out of the apartment and onto the stairs. Wham. I run into her. Mystery match girl. More accurately, fly around a corner and slam into her. She stumbles backwards on the staircase. Fortunately in a moment of sheer luck and grace, totally un-Mark-like, I shock myself by grabbing her around the waist and pulling her up. Before she falls and breaks every bone in her body, before my stupidity sends her tumbling to her death. It's our first real meeting and I have almost killed her. _Smooth move ._My hands are still on her waist and were standing close. She pushes me back and bends over to catch her breath. I start my apology

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, I am such a klutz, I can't believe I…, I don't even know how…, what can I… sorry…" She holds out her hand to shut me up.

"It's no problem really sweetie. Calm down for a minute, I'm okay." I stand there awkwardly for a minute before I decide I might as well introduce myself. Offering my hand I stammer,

"Right, well I'm Mark Cohen I live upstairs from you, the loft."

"I know." She smirks, reaching out to shake my hand "It's nice to meet you Mark Cohen, I'm Elodie Sparks."

I shake her hand too long; _her hands are soft, like feathers,_ taking the moment to observe her in closer detail. She's wearing teal tights under a pair of very short spandex shorts, an oversized sweater that droops on her small frame and a worn leather jacket that would make even Roger jealous. She's carrying a large bag over one shoulder and has her hair pulled back into a tight bun. Close up I can truly appreciate the pure flawlessness of her face. Smooth ivory skin, thick lips, round face with strangely high cheekbones and those blue eyes. I can also see how young she really is.

"Um, so when did you move in, because I know the woman who lived here before you and she just moved out and I didn't see you move in and I never see you around here except for now of course…" I blurt.

"Yeah, I keep a really busy schedule with school and work and everything. I don't really know people in the city yet"

"So you're in school, where?" I try and keep my tone casual, even though I know it's a dumb question. I really just want to know her age. She looks much too young to be living in New York, or anywhere really, by herself.

She gives another knowing smirk "I'm at Julliard right now". She pauses, and there's another awkward pause before she continues,

"Aren't you gonna ask about my age, I know you want to know"

"Not really, that's none of my business. But now that you mention it you do look a little young."_Real casual Mark..  
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"I'm seventeen, I graduated high school a little early. So I'm sure your feeling a little perverse over whatever fantasies you were entertaining on the fire escape last week" her voice is slightly chiding and I can feel my face turning red. _You know she's right_. Hoping to save myself from complete embarrassment I try a witty comeback but it just turns into another babbly mess.

"I didn't…. that's completely beside the point…I was just" _I'm such a dork._

"I saw you staring at me, and I know how erotic smoking a cigarette can be to a man with his mind in the gutter, all sorts of images about the mouth and lips and other things…" she trails off suggestively.

"Well I was …the matches…you….I'm sorry…?" I apologize again.

"Jeez Mark I'm just fucking with you. But seriously though, I'm jailbait. And I'm off the market I have a boyfriend"

Of course she does. I know it's wrong but I can feel my heart drop a little. "Right, well then its nice meeting you I should get going."

I turn to go but before I can even reach the stairs I feel her come up behind me, she touches my shoulder. She's close, too close; "Well just because I have a boyfriend doesn't mean we can't be friends. I mean I don't know anyone around here so It'd be nice to have neighbor looking out for me. Do you want to come in for coffee?"

I spin around and gape. I've never been asked out by a girl, much less one who thinks I'm an obsessive pervert. Part of me wants to leave her by herself. There's a perfect spring day waiting for me that I know will be much less complicated and a good deal less embarrassing, but I can't say no. Even as I open my mouth to turn her down I hear a yes coming out instead. Something about how young she is, how innocent, yet shameless she is draws me in. The spring day can wait, because in that moment Elodie Sparks is so much more beautiful.


	4. Not a Date

_Mark's POV_

The moment I walk into her apartment I know I have made the right choice in having coffee with her. It's sort of shocking how much you can learn about somebody just by being in their apartment. The first thing I learn about Elodie Sparks was that she has a magical gift for cleaning. Walking into the cramped flat I expect to be hit with the odor of the 200 cats that had lived there before her. Actually it smelled nice. Like a gentle mix of apples, coffee, and hairspray. She leads me over to a metal table, almost an exact copy of the one in the loft, by the kitchen and starts to make coffee. I don't see any actual chairs so I make myself at home and pull myself onto the table. I'd be happy to just watch her make coffee, the way she moves, graceful yet deliberate, but I really don't want to come off as a stalker so I try to make conversation;

"You know not that this isn't great and all, but you probably shouldn't invite random strangers into your apartment. Not everyone in this city is as harmless as me".

"Well that's it, you're harmless and I knew it from just looking at you. And really Mark just because I'm not from New York doesn't mean I'm completely senseless."

Again I'm speechless. What is it about this girl, any girl really, that makes me say such stupid things? _She's so beautiful and you're so …you._

"I didn't mean…"I stammer, but push on "So if you're not from around here where are you from?"

"Miami"

I can't help it but I can feel my mouth drop open "Miami. Why the hell would you leave bright and sunny Florida to freeze your ass off here?"

"Well when I left I didn't think I _would_ be freeing my ass off" she sighs "I left to come to Julliard and to be closer to my boyfriend, he's living in Jersey right now, but I'd be lying if I said that these were ideal living arrangements"

She's finished setting up the coffee so she hops up onto the counter across from me to wait for it to brew. I am still baffled over this whole Miami issue.

"I sort of get it, you know freezing for your art, but come on, Miami?"

She shakes her head sadly, "Mark Miami isn't that great. It's a dying city that saw the end of its glory days 10 years ago. It's full of posers, has-beens and old people. New York is so alive, so vibrant. I'd rather be freezing and starving here than living it up by a pool back home."

This helps. As much I hate the cold and the general poverty which has so far plagued my life in New York, I can't deny that it has a certain magic that keeps me here. It's sort of the perfect setting for a struggling artist.

"Ok so you traveled half way across the country to go to school here and you're not even living on campus? What's your major anyway?"

"I can't live on campus because of money; room and board there is outrageous. Even with the aid I'm getting it's cheaper to live here. I get a stipend for rent and I work so I'm able to make ends meet. And I'm a dance major."

Of course she was. _Great_. I have actually met several dancers, thanks to Roger, and they were all the same type of girl; slutty, annoying and unstable. Of course I'm not one to stereotype, so I continue with my questions hoping to diffuse the silence which has settled over the kitchen. The coffee is ready so we sit on the couch. On opposite ends of the couch. To my surprise she shifts the focus towards me, opening the door to a free rant on my filming. She actually seems interested, at least she nods and comments at the right times. Of course there were moments where she seems to lose focus, gazing dreamily at a spot above my head. This doesn't deter me as much as it should though, because although she's a dancer I think there are some actual worthwhile thought going on in her mind. _And she looks so good when she's dreaming. _I would have let the conversation go on forever if I hadn't taken a fleeting glance out of the window. While I was rambling on about my latest project night had set in. Our mugs lay forgotten on the floor and I now realize that we are sitting about a foot closer then when we started. I should definitely leave now before I ruin the moment.

"Well, um it's getting sort of late"

She turns toward the window as well "Oh wow. I can't believe we just wasted a beautiful day dorking out about film."

I feel my face drop "I wouldn't exactly call it a waste." I mumbled.

"No, me neither I just mean that we should sit outside or something next time" She amends.

_Next time?_ There would be a next time. I quickly extricate myself from her couch and say goodbye. I had a normal conversation with a girl. A gorgeous girl. A girl who I must remain simply friends with, but I didn't embarrass myself completely. I start merrily up the stairs to the loft. I trip about half way up and see her smiling at me from her doorway as I stumble and fall.


	5. Friendly Conversation

_Here's where things switch to ROGER'S POV. I don't want things to get confusing. From here on I'm going to be switching from Mark to Roger every four chapters._

Elodie fucking Sparks. If I have to hear Mark mention that name again I am going to kick his ass. He hasn't known the girl a month and already she has become all he talks about. I'm sitting on the table mulling over Mark's latest muse. Just the thought of her causes me to hit a sour not as I pluck out Musetta's Waltz, yet again. _Was that jealousy?_ I thought his endless film rants were annoying, but his obsession with this girl takes the cake. I've seen Mark like this with girls before, and it always ends up the same way; him crying into his tea the morning after he finds her cheating on him. I cannot handle that kind of a mess again. Especially not with all the shit going on between me and April. It started out fun, she was fiery and sexy and was the perfect complement to my pretty-boy front man image, but things have gotten bad lately. I know it's because of the drugs but I just can't get her to stop. And maybe I don't really want her to; because as long as she's still using I can too. Maybe its best that Mark's found this new girl, he's so distracted he can't see what's going on in the loft. Hasn't noticed that I'm just as bad as April. What I do to myself is my own problem, but I would never want to hurt Mark._ He's too important. _ Either way I have to confront him about this girl, he's simply too infatuated for his own good. My opportunity comes that night after dinner. Mark is droning on about Elodie, again;

"…and then she jumps up on the table in the Life and starts dancing and belting Cabaret and I…"

I cut in, "did you say you two went to the Life together, alone…"

He freezes, obviously stunned by my unexpected input. I usually just try to tune him out.

"Umm ya. Who else would be there?" he answers carefully.

I know now I've got him right where I want him so I put down my guitar and face him putting on my best 'concerned buddy' face I ask

"So you're telling me that you went out on a coffee date with this little piece of jailbait who has a boyfriend. Seriously Mark I thought you just wanted to meet the girl I didn't realize you'd be stalking her."

I can almost see the gears in his head screech to a halt while his jaw drops to the floor. I sit back and watch as the stammering begins. As composed as Mark is, he's never been good with tough questions

"It wasn't a…she's not…the boyfriend…Roger that's just twisted"

"Exactly my thoughts Marky" I smirk "I didn't realize you were in to high-schoolers, I always thought you'd prefer a more mature girl"

He's seems to have collected himself a bit

"She is mature, and she's not in high school. Besides we really are just friends" _I can hear the disappointment in his voice. _

"For now…. We both know it's only a matter of time before you fuck her. I mean I don't get it, but the girl seems very drawn to your dorky Jew vibe…." I counter throwing in my best perverted wink, just to make him uncomfortable. He is. I watch as he squirms out of his seat and wanders over to his room, trying to look nonchalant.

"You're such a perv Roger, I am definitely not going to fuck her." _Again I hear the regret. _

"Besides, she probably wouldn't want me anyway" He mumbles with a shrug as he enters his room and slams the door. Now I feel guilty for bringing it up. Damn Mark and hislow self esteem…..


End file.
